


Happily Ever After

by darkforetold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Curtain Fic, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Dean lives in a world where princes can only marry princesses and live happily ever after. The problem is, he's in love with Prince Castiel, his awkward (ridiculously handsome) best friend. Dean thinks it's his destiny to settle down with a princess, but when Dean goes after the famed Sleeping Beauty, things change. Instead of facing off with villains, Prince Dean decides to fight social expectations and go after his one true love: Prince Castiel.</p>
<p>This is a light, happy story that looks at stereotypes, close-minded thinking, and finding one's true self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the amazing art [ here!](http://supernaturallynoble.tumblr.com/post/130674840877/my-art-for-the-dcmb-2015-will-add-details-to-link)

_The Prince and the Fair Lady_ sat quietly on the end of Patience street, smack-dab in the middle of Harmony, a large portside city that was home to the wealthy. The tavern's clay shingles were hail abused, the wood supports cracked in places. It'd seen better days and somehow looked worse in the month Dean had last seen it. 

He flicked an irritated glance at the sprawling white castle looming magnificent and picturesque behind it. It belonged to the Happily-Ever-After Council (HEAC, for short), responsible for the upkeep of important places like _The Prince and the Fair Lady_ , and they seemed to be spending the good people's tax money on something else.

Not on relics like the _Fair Lady_ —and especially not new prince uniforms.

The pants he'd gotten from the HEAC rode up like they always did and he pulled them out of the crack of his ass discreetly. Dean took a deep breath, checked his posture—shoulders over hips, spine straight, chin level: check!—adjusted his sword, and strode forward like he belonged here. He nodded to the guards and stood proud—chin tilted slightly up like he was taught. The usual suspects kept watch at the entrance, imperious in their leather armor with swords at their hips. The "No Princesses Allowed" sign glared angry at him in red and, from here, the sounds of laughter, music and drinking reached out to him from the partly opened doorway.

Gordon stopped him before he could breeze on through. "Can I see some ID?" 

"Are you fucking serious?" Dean grumped. "I've only been gone a month!"

"You know the rules," Gordon said. "ID, please."

"You could be a wicked witch for all we know," Victor piped in.

Gordon and Victor shared a laugh. Dean rolled his eyes and fished his HEAC-issued ID out of his pocket and handed it over. Gordon poured his dark eyes over it, looking up at his face, then back down at the card. Victor looked too, studying Dean like he hadn't known him for _years_. 

"The resemblance is iffy," Victor said.

"Agreed."

Dean frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Really?"

"We're just fucking with you, Winchester. No need to get your feathers ruffled."

Gordon threw the ID back at him, and Dean caught it. With a hand motion, Gordon waved him inside and said, "Welcome back, Prince Charming."

Dean puffed out his chest, nodded, and stepped inside. The tavern opened up with laughter, smoke and the smell of alcohol. Several Princes threw darts in one corner while others huddled at the bar, dropping shots like wicked witches. A cloud of cigar smoke hung in the air. Glasses clinked. The smells, the sounds—

He was _home_.

"Prince Charming," someone said.

"Prince Charming," Dean greeted back.

Princes from all over greeted him, nodded, waved, even high-fived him as he came through. Tons of them he recognized, several he didn't—most of them life-long friends. Hell, even brothers, in some cases. Dean studied the crowd, picking through the huddled mass for someone in particular. He always wore blue to match his beautiful eyes, and the messy hair was hard to miss. The slouching, too. His adorable awkwardness, his—

"Well, look who decided to show up!"

Dean blinked hard in the low light, but knew exactly where to look. His boys waved at him from the usual poker table in the corner, close to one of the few windows in the place. Dean shot one last look to the room—he wasn't here—before weaving his way through tables and warm bodies. A huge hulking wall of man stopped him short, grabbing him for a rough, crushing hug. It was hard to believe that only a few years ago, Benny had been over seven feet tall with claws and covered in fur. 

Benny clapped his back hard, then pushed him out to arm's length. "Where the hell y'been, brother?"

"Around," Dean said. "How've you been?"

"Good, good. Never better." Benny turned to bartender. "Get this man a drink, will ya?"

"You got it!" Ash called out.

"Come on. Sit down," Benny said, taking a seat. "Hey, deal him in."

Dean settled in a chair next to Michael, just a few feet from the window. As usual, Michael looked solemn, brows thick and furrowed, always deep in thought. Troubled, even. Dean plucked a tiny seashell from his pocket and set it beside him. "She still collecting things from the sea?"

"Yes, she is." Michael looked at the seashell and closed his hand over it. "And still looking at it forlornly like maybe... she'll return to it one day."

Anna, princess from the sea who'd become a woman and given up her home and family for True Love. Except that True Love didn't cure homesickness.

"She'll be okay," Dean said quietly. He patted him on the back.

Ash came around with his beer. It tasted stale and bitter. He got dealt a shitty hand. Everything was as it should be at _The Prince and the Fair Lady_. Nothing seemed to have changed. Except for his brother. Last month, Sammy was all smiles and laughter. Today, he was brooding almost as much as Michael. 

Another hand. Two hearts, three spades. Total shit. He folded, then looked at Sam. "Been a while, Sammy. You good?"

"Yeah," Sam said, frowning at his cards.

"Jess good?"

Sam tossed his cards across the table and growled low in his throat. He hated losing, that kid. "She's fine," he said. Didn't sound fine the way he said it. "We're..." Sam ran a hand down his face. "—thinking about cutting her hair."

Somewhere, a glass shattered. Benny choked on his beer, and Alastair frowned more than he usually did. Dean just sat there, dumbfounded. Shocked. Appalled. "Are you... fucking crazy, man? You can't just... cut her hair. It's—"

"A legend," Alastair finished for him.

"Exactly. A legend, thank you." Dean stared at Sam hard. "Her hair is how you got up to her in that tower in the first place, man."

"You think I don't know that?" Sam snapped. "Look. It's too long, all right—" They all gasped. "—and it's too hard to brush and lug it around all the time. It's gotta go."

Dean stared down at his new hand and clenched his jaw. "It's like... I don't even know you anymore."

Sam sighed dramatically. Bad news hung over them like a spell gone wrong. A poker hand went by without anyone saying a damn word. Then, Alastair tipped over Benny's beer. On purpose. Dean jumped back as the liquid raced toward him. "Dude, what the hell?"

The others didn't seemed as fazed. 

"He's been doing shit like this all month," Benny mumbled to his cards.

"Why?" Dean snapped.

"The last dwarf moved out—" _Good news_. "—so, I'm doing something I've always wanted to do. I'm going to register as a villain with the Happily-Ever-After Council," Alastair said.

"So, you, what? Tip over other people's beers?"

"It was rather villainous, as you can see." Alastair motioned to the table. "I got some of the cards wet this time."

"Wow." Dean sat down tentatively. "I leave for one month and _everything_ goes to Hell."

"Not everything," Benny said. Dean looked at him curiously. "Got a little beast on the way."

"Andrea's pregnant? Well, holy shit!" Dean turned to Ash. "Bring some beers over here. We're celebrating!"

They drank to Andrea's healthy pregnancy, drank to happily ever afters, and because the boys were back together again. Drank for all the reasons and none of them. It was like he never left. 

"I remember this guy," Dean began, a little slurred, pointing at Benny. "—as a Beast with claws and fur, whimpering in the forest because of a splinter in his foot." Dean grinned. "He found his Beauty, turned human, and now look at him: a bona fide prince with a bun in the oven."

"Cheers to that!"

"Proud of you, buddy." Dean and Benny clinked glasses. "You did good."

"Thanks, pal. 'ppreciate it. Couldn't a'done it without ya."

They drank more and played more hands of poker. After a ruthless hand where Sam cleaned up nicely, the attention fell squarely on Dean's shoulders. 

"So, Dean." Sam looked at his cards. "Where've you been this past month? You never told us."

"Been training," Dean said truthfully, quietly as if it were no big deal. It was anything but. "Gonna go after Sleeping Beauty."

Another glass shattered somewhere. Dean gave Ash a glare and when he looked back at the boys, they were all staring at him. Quiet. Shocked.

"Whoa," Benny finally muttered under his breath.

Alastair just frowned. Villainously.

"Are you nuts?" Sam snapped after he recovered.

"Nuts?" Dean shot back. "Hey, I'm not planning on destroying a national treasure here. That's on you."

"No, you're just planning on suicide."

"Sam's right, Dean. Ain't no one been able to get to the castle, let alone wake 'er," Benny said.

"Yeah? Well, I ain't no one." Dean folded his hand and leaned forward, pointing. "Let me tell you what's going to happen. I'm going to charge into that castle on my horse, climb those damn steps and kiss her. She's going to wake up, and I'm going to get my Happily Ever After. Got it?"

No one said a word.

"I heard she's guarded by a dragon," Benny mumbled.

"All the better I practiced my sword skills, then."

"Can't kill a dragon with a sword, Dean," Sam said.

"Can too."

"Can't—"

"I thought you had it hard for that... blue-eyed fellow," Alastair said nonchalantly. Not even looking up from his cards.

Dean suddenly couldn't breathe. The boys stared at him with wide eyes, waiting for a confirmation, a denial, _something_. Was his secret out? Did they believe he had it in for Cas?

Fucking villains.

"Don't be stupid, Alastair," Dean said smoothly. His heart pounded in his chest. "No one could like that guy. Not even princesses. Do you see the way he slouches?"

Benny nodded. "S'like he never went to the Academy."

"He's more of a slob than you, Benny," Sam jabbed while cleaning up another hand.

They all had a chuckle at Cas' expense, and Dean laughed with them, feeling like a total shitheel. He'd make it up to Cas somehow. Meanwhile, Dean glared at Alastair through the next hand and while the others had folded, they dueled it out. Dean won with a royal flush.

"Nice try, asshole," Dean hissed, gathering his winnings. Meaning the Cas thing, the hand, and whatever else.

Alastair gave him a sly, stupid smirk, and all Dean wanted to do—

"No princesses allowed!"

"Ah, shit," said Benny.

Dean heaved a big sigh. He didn't even need to look to know who it was. Nobody could miss that fiery red hair, the cherubic face, the brush stroke of freckles across her nose. A cute _princess_ , by all means, with an attitude as hot and bright as her hair. With _ideas_ about _things_ as wild and incomprehensible as her even setting foot in _The Prince and the Fair Lady_. Gordon and Victor didn't even care anymore about escorting her out. They probably let her in for the sick excitement of it all.

Worse, she'd taken a shining to him and the boys.

She flopped down in the last empty seat. To Ash, she said, "I'll have a beer, please." Then, to the rest of them, "Deal me in, boys."

"You're not supposed to be here, Charlie," Dean grated. "No princesses allowed."

They'd been over this. Every week. For _months_.

"Dean, come on. You know me by now. Stupid rules haven't stopped me yet." She turned a glance to the boys. "Come on, guys. Why the sour faces? I just want to play some poker and talk about princesses."

"Here we go," Benny sighed, folding his hand.

"Don't start that shit, Charlie," Dean said. "We got enough to deal with for tonight."

"Really?" Charlie went wide-eyed, leaning in, whispering, "Like what?"

"Jessica is cutting her hair."

"Goddamnit, Alastair." Sam rolled his eyes. "Alastair is thinking about becoming a _villain_."

"An' Dean's going after Sleeping Beauty," Benny added finally.

"Wow." Charlie sat back in her seat, stunned. Out of all the news... "Dean's finally going after a princess? Way to go, champ." She grinned, leaning into him. "But I thought you liked—"

"Shut your face, Charlie."

The conversation dwindled down a little, until Charlie launched into her princesses-marrying-princesses thing like she always did, making the rest of them nod politely or sigh like they always had. Dean zoned out. He won several more hands. The rest of them ignored Charlie and eyed his mounting pile of chips. If all went well, he'd win tonight. But it didn't go well. Alastair cheated somehow and took half his stack, then gave him a shit-eating grin. Dean glared, debating letting him leave alive or not, when someone else caught his eye. 

There, through the door, walked in Cas. His blue eyes scanned the crowd, and Dean couldn't help but stare. As usual, his hair was a mess—and sexy as fuck—and definitely not to prince-code. It wasn't perfectly combed down like everyone else's. It shot up every which way, giving him a disheveled look. Like he'd just gotten out of bed and didn't give a single shit. His clothes, too... not perfectly smooth and crisp, but crooked in places, untucked in others. His slouch was unmistakable, yet somehow, as he walked in, he had this... otherworldly grace about him. 

They called him a rebel behind his back, that he'd never done what he was told. Dean admired that about him. Admired his bright, clear blue eyes, his strong jaw line, his handsome face... that ass...

"I have a full house," Benny said. Everyone else cursed and folded.

Cas' eyes found him finally, and Dean beamed a bright smile. Cas smiled a little, too.

"Dean has a hand of hearts..."

He looked down at his cards. All hearts. Dean made the mistake of glancing at Charlie, who was staring at him, chin in her hands, eyebrows wiggling like she _knew_. Dean frowned at her, folded his hand and stood up, turning toward the window to go around the table and _escape_. A bird on the windowsill caught his eye, held his gaze like it was going to eat him, then started tap-tap-tapping on the dirty window like it hadn't gotten his attention _already_. Dean tried to look away, but it tapped more furiously, and Dean _had_ to look. Right then, the stupid bird drew a heart in the dirt, peeking through one of the lines it'd made. Birds drawing hearts—sounded completely stupid. Except that it kept happening every time he saw... The bird tapped again. If birds could grin and be shitheads, it certainly would have.

No one else had noticed it, Dean concluded, looking at the boys. The topic of conversation switched from cards and hair, to _Cas_ when he stopped a good five or more feet from the card table. Like it had a disease.

"Oh, _look_ ," Alastair said with contempt. "It's not-so-prince-charming..."

Dean shot a glare at Alastair, who in turn just smiled darkly into his cards. He would've walked away from the table had Charlie not opened her mouth to say, "I think he's dreamy," her comment pointed directly at _him_. Dean frowned at her. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, canting her head to Cas. Before things got too complicated, before _everyone_ figured Dean had a thing for Cas, he left. Dean weaved through tables and chairs, never once breaking eye contact with Cas. When they were finally close, Dean couldn't help but grin, and Cas gave him a small smile. Hell, even those barely there smiles made his heart flutter.

Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

They stood there, hovering just beyond each other's personal space. The scent coming off Cas told him that it'd just rained outside. An earthy smell, damp yet somehow alluring. Dean drifted in a touch closer, and Castiel studied his face, then his lips like he always did. What he wouldn't give to kiss Cas right now. Let all of the princes see, he didn't care. But when reality struck, when Dean looked around and saw Charlie staring at them, Dean shifted uncomfortably, grabbed Cas' arm and dragged him to a corner. Cas didn't seem to notice the change in location. Those beautiful blue eyes were locked on him, always searching for the next puzzle piece. 

"Hey, Cas," he said again as a flush crept up his neck. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"No, you haven't." Cas narrowed his eyes. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Dean lied. "Doing... prince stuff."

"What kind of prince stuff?"

Dean opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. While Dean floundered, Cas zeroed in on him, making him even more nervous. He didn't want to tell Cas he'd been gone because he was training. Didn't want to mention he was going after Sleeping Beauty. He wanted to pretend for a while that it could be just the two of them, him and Cas, somehow living their own happily ever after. Together. 

Cas touched his arm gently. "Dean..."

"Uh, sword-fighting," was his answer.

"Oh."

And that was that. Their conversation died. Dean shifted again as the silence wore on, as Cas studied him even more, trying to suss out his lies and betrayals. He smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, didn't even notice that Cas too was growing more and more uncomfortable until—

"There's a ball tomorrow, in my name," Cas blurted out. "Will you come?"

_Wait, what?_

Dean looked at him, his eyes, his plush kissable lips. Searching. Balls were thrown for only two things. Birthdays and... Cas couldn't be... could he? "Your birthday isn't tomorrow."

"No."

"Then... why would you have—"

"My father wants me to find a princess, Dean," Castiel said impatiently. "Will you come?"

_Fuck_.

His heart sank into his stomach. He needed to throw up suddenly and wavered on his feet. Was the room spinning? Cas had never let go of his arm, and Dean savored the touch, holding onto it as if it was his only lifeline. Cas and... a _princess_. He didn't know which hurt worse: a wicked witch's curse or the fact that he'd never get his happily ever after with Cas. When Cas squeezed his arm, Dean blinked and looked up. Cas, his hopeful face... 

Slowly, Dean took in a breath and nodded. "Uh, yeah, sure, Cas. What are friends for?"

Cas smiled weakly.

"Did you... uh, did you invite all the guys?"

"No," Cas said quickly.

"Not even Benny? He's the light of every party."

"He'll eat all the food." Cas glanced at the card table, then back again. "But you can bring Sam if you'd like."

Dean looked back at Sam, too, to his pensive expression and floppy hair. To Cas, he said, "Nah, he's dealing with stuff." Dean fiddled with his tunic. "Jess is, uh, thinking about... cutting her hair."

Cas' nostrils flared and his eyes went wide. He looked just as scandalized as everyone else.

"I'll be there... at your ball, I mean," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck again.

"Thank you, Dean." Cas gave him another small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Cas turned, about to leave. Dean stopped him by grabbing his arm. "Wait, Cas. You don't want to stay? Have a drink with the guys?"

Those blue eyes scanned the poker table, and something... sad registered over his face. It hurt him to see that, to know that Cas knew he wasn't accepted by the rest of them. The other princes saw Cas as an outcast because he didn't follow the rules. His hair wasn't perfect, he slouched, and his clothes either didn't fit him at all or were in disarray most of the time—and they made fun of him for it. 

Cas looked back at Dean and shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow evening. Good-bye, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth, but Cas was gone, disappearing into the crowd, then out the door. He sighed audibly and ran a hand down his face. A ball. Cas. _Princesses_. A knot formed in his stomach and his head was a little bit dizzy. He turned and ran right into a table, earning him what would no doubt be one hell of a bruise tomorrow. And he didn't have time to recover from it. Charlie was coming for him from across the room. Dean looked around and calculated the best possible route to get to the guys and made a beeline for it. But Charlie was smarter. She cut him off at a support beam and blocked his way, standing there grinning. Like she knew something. 

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Like I didn't see the way you looked at him, Winchester," Charlie beamed. "You have hearts practically floating over your head."

Without thinking, Dean looked up. Just rafters and cobwebs. No hearts. With all the weird shit happening lately, he wouldn't have doubted there'd been literal hearts floating over his literal head. But Charlie wasn't so convinced. When he looked at her again, her eyes were wide, huge, about to fall out of her pretty head. 

"Why did you just look up?"

"Um—"

"Wait. Have you been seeing things? Like... weird things?" Dean gave her a blank look, but knew what she was asking. "Like birds, squirrels, hearts—"

Dean clenched his jaw and that was all Charlie needed. She burst into excited giggles and clapped her hands, bouncing up and down on her feet. Making a total spectacle of herself. Then, excitedly, "You're under the True Love effect, aren't you?"

Dean looked over her head, to the guys, to his safety. They were playing another hand of cards. If he could just—Charlie grabbed his chin and brought him to eye level. "Dean..."

"Charlie, I don't even know what that _is_. True Love effect? And think about it," he pulled her in conspiratorially, "you really think if birds and squirrels and whatever else—or fucking hearts were over my head, someone else would see them?"

"Only the person under the True Love effect can see them, Dean. Didn't you learn that in class?"

"Look, I'm _not_ under some... True Love effect, damn it," Dean growled. "No one believes in that True Love shit."

"Well, it's _real_ , and I think you're in love with Cas."

"Would you—" Dean dragged her a few feet to a corner, far away from anyone else. "—be quiet. I'm not in love with Cas."

"But if you were..."

"None of this matters, Charlie, okay? Why are we even having this conversation?"

"Why _doesn't_ it matter?" Charlie searched his face when it clicked. "Oh, you mean, because of the HEA stuff, and all the 'princes can only marry princesses' crap." She poked him in the chest. "Listen to me, Dean. It's crap. Trust me. One day, I'm going to show you that princesses can marry princesses, and—"

"Charlie, wake up," Dean hissed. "Where are you going to find a princess that's gonna want to marry you, huh? And go against HEAC regulations?" Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "No, tell me, 'cause I'm dying to know. Look, Charlie, I get what you're trying to do, I do, but it isn't going to work. This isn't some... fairy tale, all right? This is real life with laws. You think the HEAC is gonna let you marry some princess? That you're going to go off and live some happily-ever-after life? That's not how it works."

"But if I do, then you and Cas—"

"There's no me and Cas anything, Charlie!" Dean looked around to see if anyone had heard that. No one had. "Look, I'm going to find a princess and so is Cas. Just like the HEAC expects us to. And one day, maybe, you'll find a prince. That's all there is to it."

"You're wrong." Charlie clenched her jaw. "I'm going to show you, Dean Winchester. Mark my words."

With that, she stormed out, and the whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Princes started drinking and talking again, playing cards, going back to normal. Someone clapped his shoulder and squeezed it, "You okay?"

It was Sam. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just... Charlie..."

"Yeah, I know. Come back to the table. There's a beer for you."

"Yeah, okay."

Dean stood there, staring at the door, hoping that Charlie would follow through on her promise.

:::

Dean bounced his knee up and down as the carriage rumbled closer. He unbuttoned and buttoned the same one three times, smoothed down his already perfect hair, and kept looking out the window. The white fairy-tale castle was getting closer, but not quickly enough. He'd taken too long getting ready, making sure he looked perfect for Cas' big night, and wound up running a bit late. Okay, a lot late. He sighed sharply, impatiently, fumbled with the hem of his sleeve, then looked out the carriage window again. This time, he concentrated on the magnificent castle in the distance, surreal somehow with its multiple towers, strong walls, and candle-lit windows. It was beautiful, breathtaking even. Cas had it all. He couldn't help but suffer a pang of jealousy.

When the carriage stopped, Dean threw open the door and jumped out. The sweeping staircase leading up to the castle's great doors was almost as intimidating as the emptiness of the courtyard. He was the last one to arrive. Of course he was. Cas had probably already picked a princess, and the thought made Dean _move_. Toward the staircase, up a few steps, when the sound of another carriage stopped him dead. It came around the corner, oddly round and white, and led by white horses. _She_ came out when it stopped. He couldn't help but stare.

She was gorgeous in her white flowing gown, blonde hair upswept to the top of her head. Though she was a few feet away, her brown eyes jumped out at him and her smile—fuck. It lured him down the steps, and he stopped in front of her. He bowed. She curtsied and gave him a smile that melted his heart.

"Dean," he said. "Here for the prince?"

"Cinder—um, Joanna. Jo," she said. "And, yes. Here for the prince."

Dean took her extended hand and kissed the top of it. When she took it back, she smiled sweetly again. Never once did she look down or shyly away. This one was different. Sure of herself with straight shoulders and a confident, easy smile. He chuckled to himself. Cas would have a hard time handling this one.

"Why are you laughing? Is something wrong with my dress?"

"No, no. It's perfect. I just don't think... I don't know if the prince could handle you."

"Why? What do you mean?" Jo put a hand on his arm. "Do you... _know_ him?" 

"I do." He had a hard time looking into her expressive eyes. "I could introduce you?"

"That would be lovely, Dean. Thank you."

She took his arm, and he turned toward the staircase. A flush crept up his neck at her touch. She was warm, smelled nice, and was pretty with an even prettier smile. But every time they advanced a step, a strange clicking sound chimed. Once, three, eight times. Beside him, her confidence dwindled, and he could feel it in the grip on his arm. He looked over at her, and she smiled quickly. "Never agree to wear glass slippers. They're uncomfortable."

"Okay." He didn't know what she meant, but he didn't have to. Her smile could make him believe anything.

And he wasn't the only one entranced by Jo. Once inside, everyone seemed to stand still like statues and stare at her. Lords and ladies, fancy attire, sparkling gowns, stopped to gawk at _her_. Jo fidgeted, gripping his arm even tighter and leaned in. "What do I do?"

"No idea. Just—"

"Shit. My stepmother and sisters!"

The pretty princess—with a mouth on her—disappeared into the crowd. He stood there awkwardly, alone, then relaxed when the crowd lost interest in him. Lords and ladies resumed dancing, drinking, laughing. A server skirted by with a tray of wine flutes. Dean grabbed one and downed it in one go. It tickled his throat and eased his nerves a little. Four more later, and he was smiling at the ladies, introducing himself. Shamelessly flirting. No bites. They were all here to meet Cas. He couldn't blame them for not wanting to settle. 

Two more wine flutes later, someone appeared at the top of the grand staircase. He announced Cas, and when Cas appeared, the crowd clapped uproariously. Cas looked... fucking amazing in his formal wear, like a rightful king might. It took his breath away. He stared—sparkles and hearts suddenly clouding his vision. Dean swatted them away like bugs, but they kept appearing, swirling around Cas like he was the source. The crowd flocked to the bottom of the staircase, and Dean was left behind, waving and flailing at things that couldn't possibly be there.

Beyond all the sparkly bullshit, Dean watched as Cas took one stair at a time, slowly, princely, with perfect posture and smile. It all fell apart when their eyes met. Cas' smile grew, then disappeared completely. He looked nervously at the crowd, then at him again. He lost his perfect posture and started slouching again. Cas stood there for a long time, stunned, fidgeting. Then started flying down the stairs, two at a time, with a trail of sparkles and hearts whizzing after him. Dean didn't have time to react. Cas hurled by him, grabbing his arm, and tugged him away from the crowd toward— _somewhere_. Dean swatted at floating hearts, sneezed on glitter, and opened his eyes to find them both hiding in a tight passage off the main ballroom. Cas took in a heavy breath, a couple more, while struggling to keep himself upright. There was a wild, panicky look in his blue eyes. 

All he wanted to do was rescue him.

"Cas, hey... Look at me." Dean held his shoulders and squeezed them. Cas finally looked up. "What's got you so worked up, man?"

"The pressure..."

"It'll be fine, trust me. Any one of those ladies would love to be your princess. Nothing to worry about." Dean kept mumbling some sort of pep talk as he ran his fingers through his hair—for the sole purpose of smoothing it down. Cas closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, and Dean's breath caught. In this tight passage, their body heat warmed up the little space, and Cas' smell—sweet, clean, somehow innocent—kissed his nose. If they could just... stay here, forever... Dean cleared his throat and began straightening Cas' clothes. More pep talk. More about princesses and marriage and happily-ever-afters when all Dean could really think about was them. Together.

He brushed an index finger over Cas' cheek. "There. All better."

Cas nodded, was okay for five seconds, before he broke down again. "I can't do this..."

"Yes, you can," Dean said, popping out of the passage to stop a passing servant. He grabbed two wine flutes from the tray. "Talking to women... it's as easy as riding a horse."

Cas' eyes went wide, maybe out of fear or something else, he wasn't quite sure. Dean gave him a wine flute, and Cas took it down in one shot. He watched his throat bob and imagined himself nuzzling the soft skin there.

_Cas and you ain't never gonna happen. Get over it._

"You gotta get out there, Cas," Dean said. "They're waiting for you."

"Dean—"

He pushed Cas out of the passage, and a throng of ladies gasped and swarmed him. Cas kept up appearances well enough, smiling (sort of), talking (sort of), while Dean slipped over to the food table. He found a strawberry, popped it between his lips, and watched Cas. He wanted to be every princess Cas smiled at, laughed with. He wanted to be over there with him, or whisking him away on some grand adventure. Marrying a princess, having kids—he didn't want that for Cas because he wanted Cas for himself. 

Dean sighed and then shot a disarming smile to a nearby princess. She ignored him completely and scurried off, joining the pool of women crowding around Cas. Sometime during the next five minutes, Cas started looking over his shoulder anxiously, spotting Dean, smiling at him, completely relaxing before concentrating on whichever princess had demanded his attention. Then, Cas' check-ins looked more panicked, blue eyes wide when he looked at Dean, sweat beading on his skin. Cas started backing up subtly, gravitating toward Dean, then turned and all out pushed princesses aside to get to him. When they were close enough to touch, Dean grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Cas squeezed back, deftly grabbed a full bottle of wine from a servant, and popped the top. He drank quite a bit of it before Dean could stop him. "Take it easy, buddy."

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it when the crowd parted. They let through a red-haired woman and two others. Candles began to flicker around them. The three women's eyes turned completely black for a second, then returned to normal. Tiny hairs on his arms stood on-end. There was a distinct urge to defend Cas, and an even darker urge to end her. Dean's nostrils flared.

A wicked stepmother.

"Abbadon," she oozed, offering a hand to Cas. He stared at it, but didn't take it. Abbadon recovered gracefully. "My daughters, Meg and Ruby." She smiled at Cas, and Dean took a step in front of him, blocking him with an arm. The wicked woman simply looked at him, assessing him, before disregarding him as filth. "Your Highness, would you do my family the honor of dancing with one of my girls?"

Her voice made him cringe, fear prickled at his heart. Cas turned away and made a beeline... somewhere else, disappearing through a large archway leading to the night sky. Dean flashed her a glare and followed, finding Cas at the railing that overlooked a breathtaking view of the small city below.

"Good call with that one," Dean rumbled.

Cas looked at him, confused.

"You felt that, right? The wicked stepmother vibes?" More confusion. "They taught us the signs at the Academy. Flickering candles. The black eyes. You didn't see _any_ of that?" Cas shook his head. "Why'd you leave then?" Dean asked.

"I left because I don't know how to dance."

"Wait, what?" It was Dean's turn to be confused. "You learned how to dance in—"

"I skipped some of the lessons, Dean."

"Oh." Dean watched him guzzle more of the wine. He had to stop Cas before he got too far. "You're going to wind up drunk."

"Yes," Cas said matter-of-factly. "I think I'm starting to feel something."

"Well, you can't learn if you're drunk."

"Learn? Learn what?"

"To dance. Come on. I'll show you." Dean held out his arms for him. Cas looked at him skeptically, then to the archway leading inside the ballroom. No one was watching. They were alone. The sky was dark, dotted with stars, and the moon shone high. It was perfect. 

Dean smiled at him, then grabbed the wine bottle and took a swig or two, and put it down next to the railing. He held out his hands again, and Cas stared at him for a while. Tentatively, Cas took position. They started out slow, step-by-step, until Cas got the hang of it, which he did quickly. Soon, they were dancing around the open space like they'd done this together for years. Cas' tight body was pressed against his, warm and comfortable, as if he belonged in his arms. Their eyes met. This was the perfect moment to kiss him, and Dean stared at his lips. Cas looked at his, too. If he had any bravery at all...

But he didn't and looked away, to the skyline, the city below—to the stupid goddamn fireflies spinning around them, forming heart shapes that Dean led Cas through to whisk away. They danced, drank more, and laughed for a while, then danced again until their feet hurt. 

The clock struck midnight. They jumped apart.

"I didn't think it was that late," Dean said. "Probably time for me to go."

Cas nodded and they followed the wraparound terrace, down to the main staircase outside. They laughed a little, still pretty damn drunk, and nudged each other. Dean nudged Cas a little too hard, and he fell back a little, laughing, catching himself at the last second. His right foot came down hard and— _crack_. They looked down to find shards of glass and what looked like part of a shoe. Cas picked it up and held it gingerly in his hands. They looked at each other, confused. They forgot all about the shoe, then. Completely lost in each other.

"Do, uh..." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you want to go with me on my quest?"

"What quest?"

"For a, uh... a princess. Short notice but, I'm leaving tomorrow. You could meet me at my... castle."

Cas nodded, smiling. "I would love to."

"Perfect. Meet up in the morning, then?"

Cas nodded again. Dean squeezed his shoulder in a way of thanks, got in his awaiting carriage, and waved as it left. Cas stood there, waving too, holding what was left of a glass slipper.

:::

Dean wrung his hands nervously before going back to his work. He stood outside his "castle," a small wood cabin tucked away in a remote part of the forest just outside the city of Harmony. It was big enough for a small family, and he'd lived there while he was growing up. His mom used to sip tea on its quaint porch while Dad chopped wood right where he was standing. Inside, it was tastefully decorated, with wood furniture Dad had made himself, and curtains Mom had made out of old fabric. For him, it was perfect. But by HEAC and prince standards, it was shoddy and meager. More suited for a peasant than a prince.

If Cas looked down on him for it...

He shrugged the thoughts away, grabbed a brush and combed it through his girl's coat. Imala snorted in appreciation and bobbed her head. The sun was shining and he was with his horse—nothing could be better than this. He ran the brush down her shiny, muscled flank again and wiped a few bits of dust off her gleaming black coat. She had to be perfect for Cas. He wanted Cas to love her as much as he did.

He'd know soon enough.

Just outside beyond the corps of trees, the sound of a... horse-drawn carriage? loomed closer. Wheels crunched rock on the dirt path, horses whinnied. It was Cas. Had to be. But—

The carriage broke through, scattering a pair of birds holding a heart-shaped flower garland. The carriage and horses were white. It was a gleaming spectacle, and so was Cas. He stepped out of the carriage in full formal HEAC-issued prince attire, more common for balls and high social callings—not adventuring. Cas looked like an angel in all that white, red pauldrons broad, and red sash embroidered in gold. He looked more put-together _now_ than he did last night. Even his hair, always disheveled, always sexy, was perfectly combed without a hair out of place. Did Cas get the wrong message? Was he flaunting his status? 

Dean narrowed his eyes.

They assessed each other for a moment. Dean looked him over from head to toe, while Cas did the same. No sword, either. Cas was completely and utterly unprepared, which he must have noticed, too, after giving himself a once over. He came back with a frown, blue eyes glancing up to find Dean. Then, his attention fell to his "castle."

The frown got deeper, and Cas tightened his lips. It was a look of disapproval if he'd ever seen one, and Dean gripped the brush tight until his fingers hurt. "Not everyone can grow up in a castle with servants like you."

"There's a leak in your roof."

Dean opened his mouth—to yell at him, maybe—then closed it. He hadn't expected that. Cas wasn't judging him at all, just taking it all in. Dean had misjudged _him_. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I've been meaning to fix it." Dean cleared his throat. "How do you even know that?"

"Anyone can see that part of the shingles are missing, Dean," he said calmly, looking at him.

Dean glanced back. He was right. Parts of the roof were bare, naked without shingles. He'd removed the rotten ones a couple of weeks ago and intended to replace them, but never got around to it.

"I like it," Cas said, admiring his home. "It's quiet."

Dean grinned and beamed with pride. He set the brush down he'd been holding and grabbed Imala's reins. "Cas, there's someone I'd like you to meet. My girl... her name is Imala."

When Cas didn't say anything, Dean found the courage to look up. Cas' eyes were wide, panicky, like they had been last night, surrounded by all those princesses. He'd backed up a couple of steps, too, closer to the carriage than he was before, as if he were going to make a heroic escape. Dean advanced with her, and Cas curled his lips in disgust. His nostrils flared. Judging his house—yeah, he could've dealt with that. But being disgusted by his girl?

"You know what? I think I'll go it alone. Thanks for coming, Cas, but you can go back to your fancy castle."

Cas narrowed his eyes. "Why?" 

"Come on, Cas. Look at you. You come in a carriage? You have no sword. Look at how you're dressed, man. Completely unprepared for adventure. You're not taking this seriously."

Imala neighed as if in agreement, and Cas jumped three feet. "I've never adventured before, _Dean_ —" he hissed, "—and you weren't exactly _clear_ on what I needed to bring or what I should wear."

"Well, what did you think adventuring was? Another one of your expensive parties?"

"I just... didn't understand, Dean. That is all."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, reins still in hand, and studied him. Cas shifted uncomfortably under the mighty stare of Imala, trying fruitlessly to avoid her gaze. Those blue eyes found him instead. They looked pleading in a way, and when Cas asked quietly, like a scared little boy, "Can we go now?", he couldn't help but give in. "Fine. But you need a sword—and a horse. Stay here."

He left Imala and Cas to stare at each other while he went and grabbed what he needed. Dean came back with a strong mare, Gilda, and a sword Mom kept in the house for emergencies. Imala was munching on grass. Cas was watching her as if she'd bite his head off any moment.

"Here. Take this." Dean handed him the sword, scabbard and all. Cas took it clumsily, almost dropping it, and looked up at him sheepishly. Dean shook his head. "You're really something, Cas."

Cas smiled as if it had been a compliment, then looped the belt around his waist and fastened it. He looked like an adventurer now—almost. Dean handed him the reins, but Cas didn't take them. "Her name is Gilda. She's a good mare, but can be a little feisty. Show her respect, but let her know who's boss, all right?"

Wide blue eyes stared at her like she'd grown two heads. Frustrated, Dean sighed sharply. "What's the matter, Cas?"

"I... don't... like horses."

"Well, no shit. I kinda got that when you looked at Imala like she was pond scum."

His eyes went wider. "No... I didn't mean that. I'm sure she's—" he swallowed hard. "—beautiful. I just..."

"Spit it out, Cas. We've got adventuring to do."

Cas looked down and whispered, "I'm afraid of them."

"What?"

Cas looked up right into his eyes and said, "I'm afraid of horses, Dean."

"Oh. _Oh_." Dean scratched his head. "So, does that mean you don't know how to ride?"

"No, I don't."

"I don't understand. That's one of the first lessons at the Academy, and you're telling me you don't know how to ride?"

"I never got around to it," Cas said sternly.

"Well, you might as well go back to your perfect castle, then. Wouldn't want to ruin your pretty clothes."

Cas took five steps, quicker than he could follow, and closed the distance between them. Their faces were inches apart. His blue eyes weren't kind, but fiery, like he'd bring Heaven's angels down upon them. He clenched his jaw. Pissed off. All righteous. Dean couldn't ignore the hard-on growing in his pants. "Despite my appearance and lack of skills, _Dean_ , I am _not_ delicate or stupid. You're taking me with you on your adventure." He snatched the reins from him, mounted the horse with fluid grace, and said, "Now, teach me how to ride this thing."

Dean stood there dumbfounded, impressed—and undeniably aroused.

:::

Cas took to riding like apples took to pie. They were a natural fit, and they rode along until the night stretched all around them. The landscape was easy to navigate, and they found a clear little glade in the middle of the forest. They set up their tents respectively, side-by-side, and set out for a little hunting. Cas came back with... _berries_ of all things while Dean had caught a rabbit. What to do with it after he'd caught it, he didn't know.

But Cas did. He prepared it like he'd done so a thousand times. It was now roasting over a raging fire while Cas was sewing a tear in his cloak, which had gotten stuck on a vicious, long thorn. That had been the only excitement on their first day adventuring: a hole. Not even bad weather had threatened their progress.

Dean watched Cas. His long fingers wove in and out, holding a tiny needle, threading the tear closed as if he'd done that, too, a hundred times before. With the sewing, the cooking...

"How did you learn how to do princess stuff?"

Cas stopped and looked up, giving him that disapproving narrow-eyed expression. "Activities are not gender-specific. I've known many men who can cook better than princesses, and princesses who can wield swords better than most men."

Dean scoffed. "A girl who can wield a sword better than me... That'll be the day."

" _Charlie_ is better than you are."

"How dare you," Dean gasped, scandalized.

Cas thinned his lips and kept sewing. Dean poked at the cooking rabbit a little bit, which earned him a quiet, "It's not done yet." The fire crackled, and Dean sat back to watch it, then looked at Cas. "Why didn't you ever learn prin—uh, sword-fighting, for instance. Or... horse riding, the stuff we learned at the Academy."

"I didn't want to."

Dean frowned. "But they're useful skills."

"So is cooking and sewing." Cas tied off a knot and showed the cloak to Dean. It was like there'd never been a hole. "Besides, sword-fighting is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? How?" Cas just shrugged, and Dean pressed. "How are you going to slay dragons?"

"Dragons haven't existed for hundreds of years."

"Okay. What about wicked stepmothers?"

"You're going to kill your princess' mother with a sword?"

"No... maybe." At Cas' frown... "No."

Dean thought for a moment, then shouted, "Witches!"

Cas just rolled his eyes. Dean narrowed his, pointing a finger. "You're going to need to use that sword on this adventure. Mark my words."

Cas thinned his lips again, turning the rabbit on the skewer. They sat there, silent for a while, and Dean was the first to speak again. "So, you never went to the Academy?"

"No."

"Figures." When Cas shot him a glare, Dean shrugged. "You're different is all. I like different. But you'll probably never find a princess that'll marry you."

"Not every prince needs a princess and vice versa, Dean. Life is more complicated than a list of expectations set by a school or, even, a society." Cas pulled the rabbit off the skewer and divided it evenly. "I do what I want."

"Do you want to cook and sew?"

"Yes, I like it. Do you have anything you like?"

"Swords, princesses—"

"Something that's unique to you."

"I like my horse."

Cas looked at him again. "What do you want in your life, Dean? Not what's expected of you... what you want."

They ate quietly. Dean didn't know how to answer. When Dean looked down, a trail of ants had formed a heart. He sighed sharply and ignored them, picking at his food. Cas was staring off into the darkness, a pensive look on his face. It turned into a frown, a narrowed gaze. Dean looked too and saw nothing. "What is it?"

"Fireflies."

"Fireflies?" Dean squinted. "I can't see them."

"Oh," Cas mumbled. "Then, I was mistaken. It's nothing."

Cas got up abruptly and went to bed without saying anything else. Dean watched him go, confused. What had he said? Had he offended him? 

Dean stayed out by the fire, warm, thoughtful, until it died down and he fell asleep.

:::

As soon as Dean opened his eyes the next morning, he knew things were somehow... different. The sun shone through the leaves, trickling down to warm his face. A light breeze kissed his skin—when he moved, a rock stabbed at his back. He rubbed his bleary eyes, then took in his surroundings. The fire had died out long ago. His own tent was empty. He'd slept outside on the ground and fuck, if that hadn't been one of his dumber ideas. And Cas—

Dean sat up, whipping his head around. His back cracked with the effort, his eyes still a little blurry from sleep. But none of that mattered right now. Because Cas' tent... it was _gone_. So was Gilda, his horse. 

Cas left him.

He ran his fingers through his hair, mulling over last night. What had he done wrong? Maybe it was Dean's narrow-minded views about princes and what they were expected to do that set Cas off. Or, maybe, Cas got tired of him mentioning his schooling. Nothing seemed to have gone _that_ poorly last night until Cas had mentioned something about fireflies. Then Cas had gone to bed, barely even finishing his food.

Dean sighed sharply and stood up. His back ached, his neck was sore. Everything was just plain shitty. Worst of all, he'd lost his best friend and now, he had to go on his adventure alone. He thought about going back home just as something in the woods rustled. Leaves crinkled and twigs snapped under weight. Dean stood still, impossibly still, then remembered he had a sword on him. Slowly, Dean inched his hand down to his hip. No sword. Fuck. It was over there, leaning up against a tree. He could see it out of the corner of his eye.

It came closer, whatever it was. Quiet yet graceful, picking its way through the low-hanging boughs of trees. A squirrel, he hoped. But it sounded big. Like a—

"Hello, Dean."

Dean jumped three feet in the air, and turned to face— _Cas_. He stood there, hair messy, _sexy_ , with curious blue eyes and... naked from the waist up. Water droplets glistened on his skin like crystals, sliding down his toned chest, further even, down to the trail of hair that led to his—

Dean cleared his throat roughly. He didn't need a sword. He had one growing in his pants. Cas smiled wide and, out of nowhere, butterflies swooped in, circling all around him, then settled in a halo over his head. Like he was some sort of angel. 

"Uh, hey." His voice cracked, high and embarrassing. He lowered it to compensate. "Hey."

Cas smiled a touch wider. He expected birds with garlands or glitter to appear, and was thankful when it didn't. Somehow, he was able to tear his eyes away. To look at the campsite again, to the space where Cas' tent should've been. "Um... did you pack up early?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Cas _hadn't_ left him. Dean blew out a sigh of relief, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Where's your horse?"

Cas narrowed his eyes, then looked around. Studying the trees, the campsite before refocusing on Dean. "She was here when I left. I tied her up over there."

Dean looked to where he'd pointed. A simple tree, where he too would've tied up a horse. He inched closer to inspect, passing through their camp to the other side. No signs of her reins snapping. No sign of a struggle. But—

"Are those hoof prints?" Cas asked.

He was so close Dean could smell the stream water and sunlight on his skin. Almost flush against his back, peering over his shoulder, Cas was both warm and cool, body heat and a fresh bath making him pleasantly damp. Suddenly, he was thirsty and he wanted to lick up every droplet, starting at the pool convalescing in his collarbones. He'd work his way down slowly, then—

Cas charged into the woods without him. Dean blinked, then followed. The trail of hoof prints led them to the stream, then they disappeared. It was deep where Gilda had crossed. Gilda didn't like rivers or streams. She wouldn't have crossed on her own. 

"Well," Dean said, running a hand through his hair again. "I don't know. Maybe she went home. She does that sometimes."

"Went home?" Cas echoed, then balked, "How?"

"She's smart," Dean said, "And I taught her. That's how."

"Maybe she's still here somewhere."

They searched for a while longer. Cas accidentally bumped into him a couple of times, his warm, damp skin against his own. He wondered how it would feel if they were naked together, huddling to keep warm in the cold night. Thoughts of him and Cas together kept him occupied until they called off the search, went back and picked up camp. They were down one horse, and it left Cas to share Imala. He could barely concentrate with Cas pressed up against his back, with Cas' hands wrapped loosely around his waist. When they'd ridden as far as they could go, when sunset came, they made camp with one tent. Dinner was a quiet affair.

Dean looked up from his berries. "You can take the tent tonight."

Cas frowned. "It's freezing out here, Dean."

"I'm a prince. I can take it."

"Dean."

That night, they ended up huddled together in the same tent. It was small, enough space for one person, which meant Dean had to lay on his side, with Cas nestled snuggly in the 'c' his body made. He thought of everything and anything to keep himself from getting aroused. But the smell of his hair, his warmth, and the way Cas wiggled a little to get comfortable—Dean pinched the sensitive skin under his forearm. Hard. 

Eventually, warm and safe next to Cas, he fell asleep. 

:::

His world came together slowly, piece by piece. He was warm, safe, and something tickled his nose. Before he was fully conscious, he drew in his source of heat, wrapping his arms tightly around whatever it was. He startled when that something moved against him, when that something took in a deep breath—when he realized that something was _Cas_. Suddenly, Dean was wide awake, hyperaware that Cas was nestled against his chest and asleep. Cas stirred a little and Dean froze, then relaxed when Cas nuzzled against his neck. Cas' breathing was soft and even, whispering against his throat. Dean wanted to touch everywhere, hold him, never let go, but he settled for softly kissing his forehead instead. If he hadn't had a hard-on as soon as he'd woken up, he had one now, raging against Cas' thigh—and he wasn't the only one. Cas' was just as hot and insistent against him, and Dean shifted a little to get more comfortable, _away_ from temptation. If this were another place, another time, if he wasn't expected to find a princess and his happily ever after...

Dean made an exaggerated move to stretch and coughed loudly, clearing his throat, anything to wake Cas up. Once Cas did, realizing he was too close for comfort, Cas blinked up sleepily then inched back, giving the both of them much needed personal space—and the loss of his touch made Dean ache.

"Sleep well?" Dean asked, desperate to break the tension.

"Yes. Did you?"

_Best I've ever slept..._

"It was okay." He ignored Cas' somewhat sad expression and said, "We should get going."

They ate breakfast that morning in silence, then readied Imala for the day ahead. Dean mounted first, then Cas, settling in behind him, so close Dean could barely breathe. He had to fight to ignore how perfectly Cas' arms fit around him, how _right_ it felt. With a gentle nudge to Imala's side, they were off into the great wilderness.

The three of them slipped through trees, skipped over small streams. Cas pointed out a hive of bees and chattered on about how much he liked them, and Dean listened, smiling to himself. When Cas was passionate about something, he was somehow more beautiful than he already was.

"—and if I ever settle down, I'm going to have my own hive of bees..."

A shadow ducked behind a tree.

"Cas, be quiet."

Dean stopped Imala and listened. Nothing. No birds, no wildlife, just silence. He felt Cas tense up behind him, then lean in and whisper, "There's something out there."

Goosebumps bubbled up on his arms. The tell-tale whistle of an arrow cutting through the air had him kicking Imala, launching her into a reckless gallop through the trees. An arrow sunk into a trunk beside his passing head, and he heard several more miss behind them. Imala jumped over a fallen tree then zipped to the right. It was too much too fast, and Dean lost his balance, fell off, and crashed into the underbrush. 

Somewhere, he heard Cas moan.

"Cas?" Dean winced. His arm hurt. "You okay?"

No answer.

"Cas?"

Another shadow, slinking out from behind a tree. He couldn't focus, saw only boots before he rolled onto his back, gazing up at—

"Alastair?" His arm _really_ hurt. "What the fuck?"

"You're still alive," Alastair said, a touch relieved. "Good."

Dean lay there a little, gathering his wits, while Alastair pulled out a roll of parchments and a charcoal pencil. He unfurled them and marked something, then announced, "'Downed an enemy.'"

"What?"

"I downed an enemy." To Dean's further confusion... "You, Dean. You're my enemy."

"Since fucking when?"

"Since I started this application..." Alastair waved the parchments.

"What application?" His head hurt too. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Alastair sighed dramatically. "It's very simple, Dean. In order to be registered as a villain with the HEAC, one has to be... villainous, and I didn't meet the requirements. I'm making up for lost time."

"By shooting _arrows_ at us?" Dean growled.

"I missed." Alastair leaned in conspiratorially. "On purpose, but don't tell the HEAC."

"Fuck the HEAC," Dean snapped. "I fell—and I'm hurt, goddamnit."

"Oh, are you?" Alastair looked back at his papers. "On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?"

"A fucking 10."

"You've always been a little overdramatic, so I'll assume you really mean a 5." Alastair marked something on his parchments.

"Where's Cas?"

"He's fine. His pain was only a 2."

"Cas!"

Cas grunted from the underbrush, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, struggling to get to his feet. His arm throbbed—bruised, not broken—as he stumbled over exposed tree roots and twigs to get to Cas, to check on him and make sure he was fine. Cas sat there, on the forest floor, dazed, with little twigs and leaves stuck in his hair.

"You okay?"

"Yes." Cas looked at him. "Your arm—"

"It's fine. I can handle it."

Dean looked Cas over—no significant damage—then turned away, drawing out his sword. No sign of Alastair. He growled. "Alastair!"

Alastair came out from behind a tree, eyes never once leaving his parchments. When he finally looked up, he—smiled? Except... it wasn't the smile of the Alastair he'd known most of his life. It was more sinister... more... _villainous_.

"How villainous was my smile? 1 to—"

"It was a 3." When Alastair narrowed his eyes dangerously... "Okay, an 8." Dean swung his sword in an arc, then settled into his ready stance.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Cas asked, finally upright. Leaves still in his hair.

"He tried to kill us, Cas."

"But he missed."

"I don't care. That shit's not okay." Dean growled. "Come on, Alastair. Let's do this."

Alastair drew his sword like it was more of a chore than Dean being an actual threat. He lazily swung it a few times, then got ready too, eyeing Dean all... evil-like. Alastair came in hard, without warning, swung fast—and hit his injured arm with the flat of the blade. Dean yelped. Another swing sent his sword flying. Duel over.

"What the fuck, Alastair?"

"You were always a little slow—"

"I'm not talking about my sword skills, man!" Dean groused, holding his arm. "You cheated."

Alastair sheathed his sword, took out his papers and marked another box. "Cheating.... and winning a duel."

"That wasn't even a fair fight."

"It was fair, Dean," Cas piped in.

Dean turned toward him and gawked—

"'Winning an enemy over to your side...'"

—then said, "Yeah, I'd like to see how you'd do. You don't even know how to fight with a sword."

Cas scowled, and Alastair gasped a little. Dean glanced back at Alastair. "I know. A prince who doesn't know how to fight with a sword."

"I like to cook and sew, _Dean_ ," Cas growled, glaring at him.

"Cooking and sewing are good skills to know," Alastair said.

Dean rolled his eyes, back to Alastair. "Where's the horse?"

"What makes you think—"

"Wild-fucking-guess."

"Your horse is at the Fair Lady," Alastair sneered.

"What? That's it?" Dean balked. "What? You just... brought her back? That's not very villainous."

"What would you have had me do? Kill her?" Alastair scowled at him. "That's cruel, Dean."

Dean frowned, and looked at Cas, who looked just as disgusted as Alastair. "To hell with both of you," Dean hissed, stomping over to his horse and mounting, struggling with the injury to his arm. "This isn't over yet, Alastair. Mark my words. Come on, Cas!"

Dutifully, with a scowl, Cas mounted too, then they were off into the wilderness. But not before he heard, "'Obtaining an arch-nemesis,'" and Alastair's spine-chilling villainous laughter.

:::

They'd ridden through the night to make up time, following well-worn roads and stopping periodically when Imala needed rest. During one of them, he'd apologized to Cas for being a dick about his lack of sword skills, and Cas, ever patient and easy-going Cas, forgave him. As the first sunrays of the morning peeked over Sleeping Beauty's castle, with Cas at his back, dozing in and out of sleep, Dean knew he didn't want to wake Sleeping Beauty with a kiss and live his life with someone he could _learn_ to love.

Dean smiled as Cas sleepily nuzzled at the back of his neck. No, he wanted his prince and to live out his life with someone he knew he'd loved all along. But the fear of being different, the fear of what the other princes might think...

He clenched his jaw and wiggled Cas' thigh. "Hey, we're here."

From behind him, Cas yawned, then straightened up, peering over his shoulder at the castle ahead of them. Dean eyed him over his shoulder and asked, "You think there's a dragon down there?"

Cas slanted his eyes sidelong. "No, Dean. Dragons are myths. You're more likely to find a wicked stepmother."

Dean shivered, then nudged Imala. They moved down the valley and into a forest, riding for hours before the trees opened up to the castle. It was covered in... dead, dried-out vines with sharp thorns, and looked as if it hadn't been lived in in centuries. Once they dismounted, Dean and Cas moved to the castle's entrance. 

Dean glanced at Cas, then the thorns, and finally back to Cas. "Only one way to get through this." Dean grinned and withdrew his sword, hacking away at the thorny mass—which would've actually just crumpled and turned to dust with a gust of wind. Both him and Cas knew that, but Cas let him hack at the vines anyway.

Inside, it was just an abandoned castle. No sleeping people, like the legend had said. No dragon either. The climb to her tower was the real villain. After three hundred steps and several breaks, they crested the landing to her tower, huffed and puffed a few times before going inside. Once-beautiful, now worried with age and dust, Sleeping Beauty's bedroom was awash with an artist's palette of grays and dingy colors. There was a huge bed in the middle of the room... and a sleeping form behind sheer, moth-eaten curtains.

"Holy shit, Cas. She's actually here."

"Is she alive?" Cas' quiet voice asked.

"Don't know." Dean tiptoed forward, pulled back the curtains and peeked down at her. Her hair was golden, her cheeks flushed, and her lips red. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought he'd simply found a princess who'd climbed too many stairs, taking a nap in the first bed she'd found. But she was the fabled Sleeping Beauty—God, was she beautiful—and his destiny was to wake her up with a True Love's kiss.

He glanced back at Cas, and Cas, loyal and patient Cas, smiled a sad smile and nodded his head. "Wake your princess, Dean."

Dean nodded, then looked back at her. He could love this woman and live a happy life. They could have children, a kingdom—and a life that was perfectly normal. Normal was easy. Maybe he needed easy.

He leaned over, near enough to kiss. He could love this woman, sure, but he'd never be truly happy. Not without his prince. Not without Cas. Dean looked at Sleeping Beauty then, and whispered, "Sorry, sweetheart. This just ain't meant to be. I hope you can forgive me."

When Dean turned away from her, Cas looked at him, wide blue eyes beautiful. "It didn't work?"

"I couldn't do it, Cas."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you."

Cas took in a startled breath, and his mouth hung open. Dean started to say something when he heard a noise in the stairwell. Footsteps. Not theirs. Dean withdrew his sword and stepped in front of Cas. "Goddamnit, Alastair."

But it wasn't Alastair who appeared in the doorway. It was Charlie, red hair in tousles with tiny thorns here and there. She quirked a brow and said, "Hey, boys," then looked around. "Alastair coming too?"

"No," Dean answered. "What are you doing here, Charlie?"

"I don't think that's really your business, but if you _must_ know..." Charlie looked over at Sleeping Beauty. "I'm here for her."

Dean looked at the sleeping princess too, then back to Charlie. "You think that's going to actually work?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Because—"

"Oh. Because we're both princesses?" Charlie rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure True Love doesn't give a shit about gender or identity, or whatever the hell you think the holdup is. True Love is for everyone, Dean. You'll see."

As Charlie went to Sleeping Beauty's side, Dean and Cas rushed over to the foot of the bed, watching as if it were a whole spectacle. As if this very thing would answer so many confusing questions. Then Charlie bent down and kissed Sleeping Beauty. Nothing happened. She didn't wake up. Didn't stir at all.

"I told you," Dean quipped. Cas sighed, his shoulders drooping with it.

Then something miraculous happened. Thorns fell away as if by magic, and dull colors became bright. Her hair was even more golden, her lips redder, her cheeks healthy and pink—and when she opened her eyes...

Charlie smiled wide, tears in her eyes. Sleeping Beauty looked at Charlie and smiled too. Then Charlie said, "I'm here to take you home." 

Just a little after that, the two of them left, holding hands. Happily ever after.

Dean flopped on the bed, seated, staring at his hands. Charlie had proved what he thought had been the impossible. She'd been right all along. He barely noticed when the bed moved again, when warmth so familiar, so safe, nestled against his side. Dazed, he looked over and Cas smiled at him. Beautiful, loyal Cas.

They stared at each other for a while, saying nothing. Then Cas said, almost too quietly to hear, "I love you too, Dean."

And that was all he needed to hear. Cas loved him. They could be together like Charlie and Sleeping Beauty. True Love didn't give a shit about gender or identity. True Love was for everyone.

True Love was for him and Cas.

Dean got down to one knee. Cas tilted his head to one side when Dean held up a tiny vine twisted in a circle. "I'll get something better later, but..." Dean took a deep breath. "Will you be my Prince Charming?"

Cas looked at his makeshift ring, then at him. His smile was beautiful, the brightest thing in the room. "Yes, Dean."

Dean slipped the ring on, grinning from ear to ear. When Cas cupped his hand, over the ring, he looked up. "What will your parents say? Or your friends?" Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Don't care. You asked me what I wanted for my life, and I want you. I want us to live happily ever after. To hell with everyone else."

Cas smiled and leaned forward. Their lips touched like butterfly wings, soft and sweet, and Dean was drawn into it. He closed his eyes, savored every moment, before their first kiss stopped almost as soon as it'd started. Dean opened his eyes to find Cas studying him, his face, gentle fingers coming up to whisper across his cheekbone. 

"What do we do now?" Cas asked.

Dean grinned. "I say we make use of this bed."

Dean shot up and tackled Cas. They kissed and ended up under the sheets, made soft by dormant magic. They traced lines over each other with soft fingertips and kissed until their lips bruised and their bodies ached. Here, in Cas' arms, naked, skin to skin, he was more happy than he'd ever been.

:::

The wedding was simple yet beautiful, and Dean swore he hadn't teared up. At the reception, all of their friends had gathered around, watching Charlie spin Sleeping Beauty across the ballroom floor. Witnessing history in the making. They each celebrated the happy union, first of its kind, in their own way. Benny made sure to have ten samples of every kind of food while Alastair stuck to the shadows and skulked around the reception, looking villainous and tipping over glasses of champagne. A very pregnant Andrea, Anna, and Snow White made sure that Jess felt beautiful and comfortable with her new pixie cut, telling her it was perfect for her, and the right choice. Off to the side, Sam grinned, happy as hell to have gotten rid of the whole hair thing, no matter if it'd been a national treasure or not. Michael was just happy to see Anna smiling again.

Everyone seemed to have gotten their happy ending. Even Jo, who'd found enough courage to leave her wicked step mother and sisters after Cas' ball, who'd decided she didn't need a Prince Charming in her life, and who'd gone on to fight for princess' rights all over the world. 

As for him and Cas? They danced together with hearts and sparkles floating above their heads, gazing into each other's eyes. Charlie had shown them all that yes, princesses could marry princesses. Most importantly, to Dean, that meant he could marry Cas in the near future, HEAC-approved and everything. They'd go off on adventures first, maybe, find a dragon or two to slay after he taught Cas how to use a sword. Adopt a couple of princes or princesses. Anything they wanted. The sky was the limit.

They'd do what they wanted and not what was expected of them—and they'd live happily ever after.


End file.
